Snow White Queen
by She's my Morphine
Summary: Bella's life after the miscarriage. Will she completely move on with Christopher Hawthorne, even when Edward comes to tell her something utterly shocking about the high roller she's courting with? And what will become of her and her new-found addiction?


**{Author's Note: A continuation of "Blood Red Envelope" since I got so many requests to continue it. By now you know that all the credit goes to Stephanie Meyer. I DO NOT OWN TWILIGHT. I hope you enjoy!}**

My daughter would've been 2 years old that rainy morning. Coffee was brewing in the pot and I was looking down at the newspaper that my flat mate had brought up to me before she skipped off to work. Melissa worked incredibly strange hours at a piercing and tattoo parlor. Under her rough excessively inked and pierced exterior (all at employee discount prices!) she was the sweetest kind of girl that always looked out for me. She was a rare breed, a chocolate rock goddess. My only issues with her would be the amount of boys she would lure into her chambers and it was a tiny apartment. Melissa's excessive screaming often triggered memories of when I could just as easily access that kind of pleasure, while also having the sweet luxury of cuddling and pillow talk afterward.

I couldn't deny the several times I'd missed my Edward. It would be a crime to lie about all the times he would cross my mind. His striking eyes were a painful memory that I wanted so bad to will away. I've tried so desperately to drink away his face. I hoped that in time my mental photographs of him would blur as I was sure I had in_ his_ mind. Two years and he had not come searching for me. I was thankful and insulted by his willingness to let me be.

I was looking down at the bold print. This towns tragedies made my insecurities and postpartum depression seem small. It however did not diminish the pain that was distracting me from caring about financial declines. I could feel the grieving sinking deep into my chest. My upper body started crippling over the table. Melissa had left me alone with my thoughts leaving me stranded, vulnerable to the tears rising from some unknown part of me. I thought of that infants body being carried away, that tiny glimpse I caught of her...my daughter...the blessing I never got to hold. I practically died. I couldn't breathe because the sobs were caught in my throat. I was reaching out as if there was someone to grip my hand and pull me out of this dreadful experience. I put my head down on the table, my shoulders bobbed up and down with every pathetic little cry I made.

I couldn't remember anything from the letter I'd left Edward with, I couldn't remember exactly what time it was that I'd left, I couldn't even remember where I finally stopped driving and decided on a destination. I could however remember all the pain. I remember leaving the hospital without a hand to hold. I remember Carlisle refusing to even speak to me. I remember Esme's sweet kind words. I remember the empty bed, and touching my stomach just to realize my baby wasn't there. Cruel nostalgia. Anniversary of the worst loss of my life.

I pulled myself up from the kitchen chair, wiping tears from my face. I felt like an absolute mess staggering back to my room. I threw myself onto my bed and threw my body under the covers. I buried my face into the pillow praying for some sort of sanity. I tried to get a hold of myself but all I could feel was despair. I sat up, my tears starting to run less rapidly. I stood up my feet touching the carpet. I dragged my feet walking into the bathroom and opening up the medicine cabinet. I scanned all the little prescriptions and cold medication bottles until I found the little bottle I was looking for. I twisted the cap and opened it up and looked at the few little white capsules left. I poured two into my hand and dry swallowed them.

I trudged back to my bed and lay down in my bed. I lay awake thinking of Edward's pretty crooked smile until the drowsiness took me in it's tide...

I woke up seven hours later...it was five in the evening and the house was still empty. I looked at my cell phone and saw a text from Melissa:

_Working CRAZY late tonight! It's like a piercing epidemic! Take care of yourself hun, I know what day it is. Peace-a-late._

I was groggy and it took me about five times reading it to understand exactly what she was saying. I smiled a little realizing how silly I must have looked. I stood up and got an automatic blood rush. My eyes were surrounded by blackness, I had trouble staying balanced as the light started to reemerge in my eyes. I shook my head and walked into the kitchen. I put my shoes on and scooped my keys up off the counter.

The rain was pelting hard on my windshield tears were streaming down my face. The air was chilly, I could see my breath in the car. The radio was faintly playing an old Christina Aguilera song. I never cared for her songs but at the moment I didn't even care enough to turn the dial. I had one specific location in mind. I needed to escape.

I pulled in by the curb in an alley way. I stepped out and the rain was lighter, it was the type of rain that was like the mist setting on a shower head. I opened a door on the side of the building and stepped into the dimly lit bar. I stepped up to the bar and looked the bartender straight in the eye.

"I suppose you'll be askin' for wine?" he asked.

I glared at him. "Actually I'd like Screwdriver thank you." I handed him my license. He looked it over and handed it back to me.

He rolled his eyes and went to prepare my drink. I could feel the entire bar full of men shooting pool and wallowing in the ghosts of their pasts staring at me. It wasn't a surprise seeing as I was the only woman in the building. I didn't let it get to me. I was there for my own reasons.

A man in a clean pressed suit sat next to me. He had slick black hair and this sense of pride, and self confidence. He seemed completely sober, smelling of some expensive cologne. He grinned at me and said: "Can I buy you a drink?"

The bartender handed my drink. I took one sip and glared up at the bartender. "There's not enough vodka in this!"

"I put 1.5 in there. Exactly what it calls for!" He snapped.

I turned to the man in the suit. "Buy me five glasses?" I asked him.

"It's a deal. _If_ you tell me your name," he haggled.

"Very well. Isabella."

"Five shots it is, Isabella." He snapped his fingers gesturing the bartender to fill out the demand. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that the man beside me was full of himself. "Isabella what's a goddess like you doing in this shady little bar?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same question. You don't look like you're drinkin," I pointed out.

"Ah...business reasons."

"What are ya supposed to be?" I asked as the bartender placed glasses on a tray in front of me. I swigged down the first one in no time in hopes that it would turn off my little leech.

"I'm a notorious gambler. I run a casino downtown," he answered simply smiling at my gesture. I began drinking the second glass slowly seeing that there wasn't much hope for me. "I just closed a little deal and I saw you walk in. This is no place for a lady you know."

"I'm not a lady," I almost whispered.

He pushed some hair out of my face and behind my ear. "Ah, but I think I know a lady when I see one." His eyes seemed sincere. I quickly downed some more of my drink before he could make any sudden movements. I didn't trust this man, not for one minute. He looked like a total grease-ball. Something in his eyes, his skin looked strangely familiar and sinister.

"I'm just trying to have a few drinks and enjoy myself."

"This isn't a very fun place. It's mostly a place where miserable lowlifes try to drown their troubles in alcohol."

I swallowed the vodka and the accuracy in his statement. Those biting words made me feel worse about my current state. I looked down into my emptying glass seeing my reflection in the ice-cubes. I looked back up quickly overcome with shame. I hated what I saw...so of course I quickly downed a few more drinks. Before I knew it the beautiful combination of sleeping pills and alcohol had me conversing rapid fire and cutting loose. The last memory I have of the night in question is walking out the door with this man...his name was Christopher Hawthorne and as a gentleman he offered me a ride home. Intoxicated, I did not refuse.


End file.
